A Nice Cup of Tea
by krisjowin
Summary: Sherlock makes a special visit on Father's Day.


Sherlock stood nervously outside the door for a full four minutes before knocking briskly. His presence was already known, no doubt, but he needed to prepare himself for this visit. The door swung open almost before he had pulled his hand away. Mycroft's voice was a bit sour.

"Brother. To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Is Lestrade here?"

"Gregory has a rare day off. I am not letting you ruin it. If you are bored, go bother John."

"John's visiting his family this weekend."

"Then go bother someone else."

"Oi Mycroft! Who's there?"

Sherlock heard Greg's footfalls approaching the door of their house, but Mycroft still blocked the door.

"My brother, but he was just leaving."

"Actually, Mycroft. I thought we could have tea."

There was a touch of pleading in Sherlock's voice that made Mycroft falter a moment.

"We are not in the habit of taking tea together, Sherlock."

"Please?" Mycroft didn't think he had heard his brother say "please" since they were living at home together. "I brought those biscuits you lot like. The ones with the chocolate." He lifted the box he'd been holding.

"Oh, alright. Come in. Gregory, Sherlock wants to have tea with us." He opened the door fully and motions Sherlock in.

"Tea?" Greg asked, confused.

"Yes, Lestrade. Tea. You know, the dried leaves we pour boiling water over to make a very patriotic hot beverage?"

"Sherlock…" Mycroft warned.

Lestrade made to move to the kitchen to put the kettle on, but Sherlock stopped him. "No, I'll do it." Greg and Mycroft exchanged looks of confusion as the young man hurried off in the direction of their kitchen. The two made their way back to the sofa they had been at before Sherlock interrupted their afternoon.

"What's got into your brother?"

"I am at a loss to say"

Greg squeezed Mycroft's knee and returned to the book he had abandoned.

Sherlock came back in, teacups rattling on the tray he carried. He looked a bit mad, hair wild and eyes bright, but he served three cups of tea carefully and handed one each to Mycroft and Lestrade before taking his own and snatching one of the chocolate shortbreads he'd brought. Both older men carefully sipped at their cups, finding that the consulting detective had prepared it to their liking. When the silence became too much to bear, Greg started them all in on small talk and though neither of the Holmes brothers saw point in small talk, they kept it up—Mycroft because he knew it was what his partner wanted, and Sherlock for some reason that he hadn't revealed.

Finally Mycroft asked again what Sherlock was doing there.

"It's Father's Day."

"Yeah, so why are you here on Father's Day?"

"John is visiting his family because of Father's Day."

"And so you got bored and visited us."

"And he tells me that it is customary to visit one's father, if possible, on Father's Day." A blush coloured his cheeks now. "Or whoever has fulfilled a paternal role"

Mycroft had no reaction, but continuing to stare his brother down. Greg's eyes lit up in recognition.

"I'll clear these up now and be gone." Sherlock carefully set the cups and plates back on the tray and picked it up. He set it back down and reached into his jacket to pull out two envelopes. "It's my understanding that a card is traditional as well." He set them down on the table and picked up the tray again, walking out of the room.

Greg grabbed the envelopes and handed the one bearing the name _Mycroft_ to his partner and carefully opened the one labelled _Lestrade_. It was a generic Father's Day card, one that avoided actually calling the recipient any paternal name so it could be given to anyone. There was a brief note in Sherlock's spidery writing:

_Lestrade,  
Thanks for believing in me.  
SH_

Mycroft was staring at an almost identical card, and Greg could have sworn he saw his eyes watering.

_Myc,  
Thank you for watching out for me.  
Sherlock_

Greg hurried to meet Sherlock before he was out the door and caught him in a tight embrace. "Thank you, son"

Mycroft left the two to their sentiment, but on his cab ride home Sherlock got a text.

[Thank you, Sherly]


End file.
